


Learn Your Lessons Lest You Drown

by MatchaMint



Series: Icy Waters [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Dream Smp, Emotional Manipulation, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Not RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28404987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMint/pseuds/MatchaMint
Summary: Tommy can be stubborn, and stupid, and needlessly aggravating, but at least Dream is here to sort him out.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Icy Waters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116722
Comments: 11
Kudos: 252





	Learn Your Lessons Lest You Drown

Dream shows up unannounced, but not unexpected. He has visited almost every day of Tommy's exile, after all, even if it was just to check in.

Tommy stops in his tracks when he spots him. Seeing Dream’s armoured silhouette approaching always has a two-sided effect on him, both churning his stomach anxiety and settling it with the relief that he’s not going to be alone today.

They exchange greetings. Dream doesn’t comment on the new tears in Tommy’s clothing (he fell out of a tree this morning) or the bags under his eyes. He’s a good friend like that.

“Tommy?” Dream slowly nods his head to the ground and then back to Tommy, a minuscule movement.

The mildly disappointed tone would have been enough. Tommy jumps out of his thoughts, scampers to dig the hole. Stupid, he shouldn't even have to be told at this point anymore. What did he hope to achieve by 'forgetting' it? Is he the kind of person that _wants_ to get hurt now? That's a bit pathetic, even for him. He climbs back out, takes off his armour and drops it in the hole. Then he unsheathes his diamond swords and throws it in with the rest with barely an afterthought.

“And the rest of your inventory.”

“Wait, really?” Tommy protests, despite himself. His next words are rushed. “Come on man, it's just building materials, not even anything I could attack you with, I--” Tommy tilts his head up and freezes. Dream is leaning with his elbow on his Netherite waraxe, casually, like one might lean on a bar in a pub. Tommy did not see him draw it.

Tommy gulps. Casual or not, he knows how the business end of that axe feels and he's not up for any repeats today. He rushes through the rest of his inventory, chucking the items in the hole one by one. His pickaxe, stacks of wood, cobblestone, fences, some signs, all his cooked fish, his leftover iron…

Dream pauses, considering the pile. “That everything?”

Tommy bites his lip; how does he always know? He throws in the eight ender pearls he’d collected. His own fault, really, for not keeping them in his ender chest.

Dream lights the fuse, throws the stick of TNT in there, and covers the hole with a kick of dirt. Tommy takes a step back as the earth shudders and swallows another day's work.

“So,” Dream says conversationally, “what have you been up to?” He sheathes his axe and lightly steps around the upturned ground and next to Tommy's side.

“Uh,” Tommy says. He's still staring at the smouldering pile of dirt. Dream usually lets him keep his inventory, lately. Did he do something to annoy the man? He must have. Tommy side-eyes him, but can't gain any information from the blank mask and easy-going posture. “I'm sorry,” he squeaks out. A blanket apology.

Dream waves him off. “Don't worry about it,” he says, equally without referring to any specific grievance, though Tommy is sure there must be one. Dream grabs Tommy by the upper arm to and starts walking, pulling Tommy in step with him, away from the underground crater. “Relax,” he says. “I was asking you how you've been?”

* * *

They small talk, as they usually do when Dream drops by. Tommy admits, after some badgering, that he's not been feeling too well, to which Dream reacts not unsympathetically. He promises to stay for a while, flooding Tommy again with that same relief. Tommy shows Dream the new wood tower he's been building, and runs him through the other updates to Logstedshire. Periodically, Tommy fishes for information from inside L’Manberg’s borders. What is Fundy up to? Any skirmishes playing out? Any new notable builds? Even though it hurts more than it helps to hear his friends continuing their lives without him, he still wants to be kept in the loop. Dream is the only one who will provide him that information now, even if he only answers half of Tommy's questions.

They're jumped several times by zombies and once by a skeleton archer, whose arrows could easily end Tommy in the state that he’s in. But in all cases Dream runs to his defence, slays the monsters before they can do any lasting harm. Having him near makes Tommy feel safe.

* * *

They enter the enclosed courtyard of Logstedshire —Tommy is just about ready for some bell-related shenanigans. Instead, Dream, who is walking a few steps in front of Tommy, stops by the opposite wall. “Oh, this is new,” he says. “Where'd you get that?”

Tommy catches up to him, follows Dream’s gaze to the picture he put up on the inside wall yesterday. It is an old image of him and Tubbo, standing on their spot by the fence, jamming out to some music. One of the few such images he still owns. He scratches the back of his head. “I guess I’ve had this picture for ages… just tucked away in a chest somewhere.” Dream stays quiet, so he adds, “I was looking at it yesterday, feeling a bit lonely, and thought, why not hang it up, yeah?”

Dream hums in acknowledgement, but doesn't move on. The moment lasts a second too long. Tommy plucks at the frayed edges of his tattered overcoat.

“Dream?”

“Oh,” he replies. He turns to face Tommy and gestures at the image. “I’m just surprised you’d want this on display. I can't imagine it doing you good to be reminded of Tubbo's betrayal all the time.”

Tommy’s eyes flicker from the image back to the ground. Nails press into his palms. It’s true, it does hurt. He’d been a sobbing mess yesterday when he found the stash of pictures. And yet he decided to display this one. “I can handle it,” he settles on.

Dream snorts. In what seems like slow-motion, his arm reaches for the image. Tommy panics, steps forward. “Hey, what are you doing?” He squeezes himself between Dream and the image, palms up. “Dream, Dream! C'mon, let’s talk about this. I gave you my entire inventory but this I can’t replace, please.”

“Why would you wanna keep it?”

“It’s one of the good memories,” Tommy admits, quietly. “I have to remind myself of that, I do…”

For a second, Dream stares. Then he pushes Tommy aside by the shoulder with one hand, holding him there at a distance. With the other he reaches out for the corner of the picture again.

“No, no, no,” Tommy pleads, his eyes stinging. Dream will explode it, or burn it, he knows, and the idea sends him into a fit. He’s never going to be able to take another picture like this with Tubbo. His adrenaline spikes. He pushes against Dream’s arm, but it doesn’t give an inch. Tommy tears up in frustration. “No! You can't just… You can't just take that! I won't let you!” He ducks below Dream’s arm and, putting his full weight into it, shoves at Dream’s side. In the singular moment that Dream is off-balance and surprised, Tommy pockets the picture.

His gloating is cut short immediately—Dream comes at him so fast Tommy can’t even flinch before Dream socks him in the face. The fist bashes into his cheek and nose like a freight train. Tommy stumbles backwards, barely catches himself on a low fence, and wheezes.

Pain radiates from his left cheek to his nose, his teeth, his eye-socket. His breath comes in staccato. He squeezes his eyes shut. He has not been eating well, and the ocean of dizziness that is always around the corner these days floods over him, threatens to drown him. He clings to the wood panelling with both hands lest he collapses completely.

Only after a good ten seconds, when his vision stops swimming and he has more than a 50-50 shot of telling up from down, does he dare to bring one hand up to his face. Shit and piss, that hurts like hell. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and—while even that hurts— only a little blood comes away. He assumes this means his nose is not broken, but what does he know.

“Tommy,” a voice behind him says with flat affect. Tommy freezes. Cold, sharp realization of what he just did ices him through. Oh god. He pushed Dream, tried to pull a fast one on him. How was Dream ever going to allow him his armour and weapon, now? This is exactly why he takes them away. Dream could have sliced him open for that one. Tommy turns around slowly, dips his head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you, I just—”

Dream rolls his shoulder. “You don’t _think_ before you act, you never do.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy repeats, hugging himself with one arm.

“Now, hand over the picture.” Dream holds out his open palm.

Tentatively, Tommy releases his hold on of the fence. He pulls the crumbled paper from his inventory. His arm hovers in midair as he wills himself to give it up. His fist shakes. Then he pulls his hand back to his chest. “No.”

A long and exasperated exhale follows. Dream starts pacing, tapping the hilt of his axe as he walks, a movement that Tommy follows _very_ closely. As of now, Dream makes no move to attack. He looks deep in thought.

Tommy is terrified, and tired, and his face hurts, and he just wants to lie down. His nose is dribbling blood down his shirt. By all means, he should give Dream the picture. And yet… Over the past few months he’s been seeing shit, talking to trees, misremembering things. But this memory of Tubbo, it is real. Their friendship was real. And it wouldn’t have ended if not for—

“Hey, you’re swaying a bit.” Dream reaches out. Instinctively, Tommy steps back, almost falls over when he does so. Letting go of that fence was a mistake, his balance is still far too fucked up to stand on two feet and expect to stay standing. But Dream is not coming at him with an axe, or a sword, or anything pointy. He simply grabs him by his side, steadying him. Tommy stills. “Shit dude,” Dream continues, “you should probably sit down. Why don’t we go get some ice for your face?”

Sheer confusion washes over Tommy. It’s a complete one-eighty. He almost says yes. ~~~~

Instead he shakes him off. “Tubbo wouldn't have exiled me if not for you,” he mutters to the ground.

“What was that?”

Tommy clutches the photo defensively. “You heard me.” He is _on fire_ today, and not in the cool way, more in the pouring gasoline all over yourself and juggling lit torches kind of way. He simply can’t stop himself, and, well, isn’t that just the story of his life. He shakes his head fervently, only to be hit with another wave of dizziness. Shit. He probably should’ve accepted Dream’s offer, even if just to sit down.

“Tommy, Tommy,” Dream says, uncharacteristically softly, like he is consoling a toddler having a temper tantrum. “You can't really be comparing the two of us here.”

“And why is that?” Tommy asks. He rubs at his face, feeling petulant.

“I only wanted you exiled because I saw you needed a lesson. You need to learn that you can't just run around provoking people without consequences. George could have killed you for what you did to his house, you know?” Dream shakes his head. “I bet you didn't even consider that. One day or another, you'd get yourself in trouble so bad you can't stick your head above water. All I wanted was for you to have time away from people to reflect, to learn before that happened.”

“But Tubbo? _He_ has no excuse. _He_ decided, against the word from all his advisors, out of the blue, that you're not worth the trouble. The final decision of your banishment was his, not mine.”

“That's not true! He did care, you put pressure on him with the wall, you...”

“He doesn't care, Tommy!” Dream yells. Tommy flinches back, shaken by the sheer volume. Dream steps back into Tommy's space, drives a finger into Tommy's chest. “I know all about your little fantasy, Tommy. You're trying so hard to believe that everyone in L'Manberg is still secretly your friend and that I'm the villain here.” He laughs. “That would be so easy to believe, right? So comfortable?”

Tommy takes another step back. His back hits the wall where the picture was before.

“Such great friends they are, if they can’t be bothered to show up!”

Tommy leans into the wall heavily, wishing he could disappear into it. “Ranboo did… And Phil, once.” he says, without conviction. “And Bad left a gift…”

“They sure stuck around long, didn’t they?”

Tommy slumps his shoulders. “No… They didn’t,” he mutters. “It was probably just pity gifts anyway.”

Dream nods. “And Tubbo…”

“… didn’t even do that much. He hasn’t come see me at all. Not once.” Tommy looks away, choking back the tears. This is arguably what hurts the most. They were best friends. Best friends! And, to some extent he would have even understood the decision of his exile—Tubbo must do what is best for L’Manberg, and if that was a L’Manberg without Tommy, maybe that was the right move. But he couldn’t fathom Tubbo would do it with no remorse. Without ever checking in on Tommy, not even when he was explicitly invited to do so by Ghostbur. To immediately, clinically, break all ties with Tommy. Like he wasn’t ever that important to him. “He even destroyed the compass…”

“He did,” Dream says, solemnly. “He clearly doesn’t give a shit about you. None of them do.”

Tommy slides down the wall, breathing heavily. His chest clutches painfully. “Why do you say such mean things?”

“I’m not telling you anything new, Tommy. I’m just reiterating what you’re telling me.”

“But you…”

“Me?” Dream’s voice rises again, ripe with indignation. “I was the only one who stuck around. I came to your little party when no one else did, and cheered you up. And unlike the rest of them, I stuck around.”

Tommy hugs his knees to the point that it is painful. “But you hit me!”

Dream shrugs. “You attacked me first. You keep acting out in anger towards me because you’re confused.” It’s true, Tommy has been having difficulty separating truth from falsehoods lately. Bloody hell, he's been hallucinating Tubbo being here, simply because he wanted him to be so badly. Maybe he is confused.

“What, you want me to leave, as well? I could go,” Dream continues, and steps away, both hands in the air. “I won’t come back if I’m not wanted here.” He turns his back to Tommy as if to leave.

Panic shakes Tommy from his stupor. “No!” He shouts. He tries to get up to stop him, but lands right where he started. “No, no no no! Please, I can't be alone here, look at me, I'm…” The words die in his throat. Alone. Frightened. In dire need of some guidance, some company, someone to ground him.

Dream looks back from over his shoulder. “Then you need to stop blaming me for your and other people’s fuck-ups. We’re friends, but that also requires some effort from your side.”

Tommy nods hollowly. All the fight has left him. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was being selfish again.”

“There you go,” Dream says, and Tommy can hear the smile in his voice even though he can’t see it. All he feels is relief. He finally did something right, said something right. Dream isn’t going to leave him like everyone else did.

“See?” Dream continues, “You’re already learning your lesson now.” He crouches down in front of Tommy. “Hand over the picture, Tommy.”

Tommy looks at the crumbled piece of paper in his hand, and the tears that he'd been fighting for the last minutes start pouring. He doesn’t understand why. He places the photo in Dream's hand.

“Hey, don't cry,” Dream says. He ruffles Tommy's hair with one hand, as he accepts the photo with the other. “It's better this way. Clearly, thinking about Tubbo just upsets you. Now you don't have to be reminded anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did anyone follow Tommy's exile arc and was like, this hurts, but it could HURT MORE?  
> Y-yeah. Let me know your reactions!
> 
> (I may be already writing a sequel (involving Technoblade) because my heart can only take so much.)


End file.
